


Taboo Truths

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Established Relationship, M/M, Reunion Sex, Season/Series 10, re-established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in season 10 after “Ask Jeeves”, the Winchesters head to the Pacific Northwest because the mutilated bodies are piling up. They encounter a force that changes them in ways they could never have anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_reversebang2014 for S1013. Not my characters only my words. Thanks for the awesome and speedy beta, firesign10 you are amazing. Thanks to righteousbros for such a great prompt and such beautiful artwork, it was great to get to work with you on this story!

  


 

@~~#* ** _THEN_** ~@#*~

 

She ran. Faster than she ever had before, faster than she knew she could.

 

She ran.

 

She ran until she could run no more. She had long ago stopped hearing their footsteps pounding behind her. She no longer felt their presence anywhere close to her. But the taste of them was still on her tongue. She spat from her dry mouth as much as she could and collapsed against one of the cedars.

 

Nestled into the cedar’s roots, she put her arms around her knees and rested her head. Hiding her face in her formerly-white hoodie, she concentrated on slowing down her breathing.  _Breathe in, breathe out,_ she commanded herself. The rain had stopped, but the trees still dripped; the random noises of the drops hitting the loamy forest floor were muffled. And so were the slowly approaching footsteps that she finally discerned.  She froze, holding her breath as her pursuer passed by on the other side of the tree.

 

The footsteps faded into the quiet forest noises, and she no longer could sense anyone or anything that seemed threatening. Quietly she took a deep breath and quickly peeked out of her hoodie.

 

The early evening twilight had gone full dark during the time she was running.  _How had she even been able to get here in such darkness? That’s adrenaline and pure panic for you, turning you into superwoman at the first flash of a knife._

 

Her cell buzzed, she could feel it even buried deep in her backpack. She dug it out, swearing under her breath, hoping they really were gone. “Yeah?”

 

“Tara, are you okay? I just got this really bad feeling that you were in trouble.”

 

“Hey, Allie, yeah, now I am,” Tara answered.

 

“What happened?” Allie asked, sounding even more worried.

 

“First customers of the night pulled a couple of knives on me, I ran into the woods and hid out. They’re gone now. I hope,” Tara said.

 

“You need to come home,” Allie said.

 

“Where’s that again?” Tara asked, trying to sound light and funny, but knowing that Allie understood the darkness behind that particular question.

 

“You know you’re welcome here. My dad’s not around, so it’d be okay for at least a day. We can leave for Mattie’s ranch, like we planned.”

 

“No, I don’t want you risking it for me. I’m doing alright, but thanks, Allie,” Tara said. “Hey, I uh…gotta go. We’ll talk tomorrow, ‘kay?”

 

“Okay, but I’m calling you if I don’t hear from ya. Love you, Tara, g’night.”

 

“Night, Allie,” Tara said, then punched the button to hang up and stared at her phone for a moment until the brightness of the screen went to black. She fumbled it back into her pack and zipped it in safely. She felt so alone now. Even though Allie was still out there. Still cared. She was the only one. And she was two states away. Too far for Tara to even think about traveling, and there was nothing for her there in Wyoming anyways. Allie was barely hanging on herself, living with her perennially drunk and abusive father. The one thing they had was the dream of moving to Mattie’s ranch, if only they could both get there somehow.

 

Tara looked up into the night sky through the cedar boughs, putting her wishes and hopes into a prayer that her mother had taught her the year before she’d passed. Cancer, of course, just like her father and grandma. All the people in her town seemed to have some kind of it, like passing the flu around.

 

“Goddess, confer on us well-being,  
confer superb prosperity,  
grant form, grant victory, grant fame,  
kill enemies.  **Aum Maatangyai Namahe”**

 

Her words rang out through the still forest night, and as they faded she heard the return of the footsteps, heading right for her. She cowered back into her hoodie, too exhausted to run, too terrified to move, hopeless that it would matter anyway.

 

Tara felt the knife at her throat before she heard her pursuer speak. “Why’d you run, girl?”

 

Tara’s eyes tried to adjust in the dim light, but all she could see was a large man holding her up against the tree with the knife pressed against her throat. She felt herself fading, and vaguely thought,  _so this is what passing out feels like._

 

The next thing she knew, the sun was glaring bright in her eyes, and she heard the sound of a woodpecker drilling into one of the nearby trees.

 

She sat up, still against the same tree, nestled in its enormous roots, and looked at the forest floor in front of her. She screamed long and loud and unhinged at the sight of what had once been a human being, now spread out into all its component parts among the ferns and forest duff. The head was in the middle, with the knife stuck in one of the eye sockets.  She struggled to not pass out again. The smell of the blood and guts assailed her nose, overwhelming in its coppery sweetness. She grabbed her backpack up and ran, heading back in the direction she’d come from. She ran faster than she’d ever run before.

 

@~~#* ** _NOW_** ~@#*~

 

“I just don’t think we should drive all the way to Washington on such a slim lead,” Sam says, pulling one leg up under him on the Impala’s front seat, turning towards his brother.

 

Dean tightens his hands on the steering wheel, not quite clenching them, then he releases the pressure. “Slim? Dude, the body was taken apart - nothing missing, just laid out on the forest floor like a diagram in anatomy book. It’s gotta be our kind of thing.”

 

Sam, of course, notices his brother’s reaction and control in not over-sharing his reasons for wanting this hunt. It’s all so obvious to Sam, but he’s got to make him work for it a little. “Sounds more serial killer to me.”

 

“But the autopsy said it was all done at the same moment, no differences between all the pieces. That’s impossible for a person to have done that,” Dean says, gesturing with one hand at Sam, like he can throw the point he’s trying to make without saying anything right at him.

 

“Fine, seems a little desperate to me. But I get that you want to keep hunting. So let’s go,” Sam said, knowing that giving in to Dean here is what his brother needs most at the moment.

 

He goes quiet while he thinks about how neither of them really are ready to end the road trip and move back into the bunker. Not when they still haven’t talked about what happened there. Sam can’t even imagine walking down that hallway past the dents in the plaster, the obliterated door, the demon’s taunts still echoing in the rooms. He figures he’s doing pretty damn well not to react too badly whenever Dean calls him ‘Sammy’. It’s like Dean doesn’t even realize what hearing that nickname in the demon’s voice did to him.  _Who knows if he’s even thought about it?_

 

It takes them a few days to drive across the country from their unexpected hunt in New England. Neither of them say much about the family that was so messed up, everyone had a motive for killing each other. And that it was a shapeshifter after all that. After his one attempt to get Dean to talk about the excess force he used in killing the thing, Sam has been holding back on asking again. Dean at least seems aware of what happened, but feeding the Mark by killing might awaken it. Or possibly, and this is Sam’s worst case scenario of course, it might turn his brother back into a demon.

 

They find a motel on the outskirts of Bremerton, Washington. It’s not on the ferry side of the city, so they’re staying near the edge of the forest, close to where the victim was found. The rooms are of course decorated in Northwest cliches of tree bark wallpaper, ridiculous pinecone lamps and switch plates. But at least the bathroom has newer fixtures and the water pressure is decent.

 

Things are still a little strained between them, so Sam is lying on his bed reading the local paper while Dean makes a supply run. He’s noticed his brother’s drinking seems to be ramping up again, and it’s not so easy to hide when they’re in each other’s pockets on the road.  When Dean comes in with a couple of six-packs and a bag of junk food, Sam looks up at him in relief. He’s relieved that it’s only beer at this point, no bottles of whisky wrapped up in paper bags.

 

“So, there’s been another one,” Sam says as he accepts an opened beer from Dean. “This time not in the forest, but on a downtown street, near where most of the prostitutes are at night. Some of the witnesses say it was one of the regulars, they saw her take the guy apart.  But the police can’t find her.”

 

Dean sits down on his bed, drinks nearly half of his beer before answering. “Killer-dissecting hooker? That sounds like something out of a bad Roger Corman movie.”

 

Sam drinks his own beer to hide his laugh. “All of his movies are bad.”

 

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You just have no taste, Sammy,” Dean says with an exaggerated shake of the head, not able to hide his happiness at being able to banter like this again.

 

Sam controls his wince of fear at the nickname that still gouges at him, even through the welcome brotherly, normal banter. “So, we goin’ to talk to the witnesses? Fed suits or what?”

 

“Naw, I’m tired of wearing those things. Let’s go with reporter or true crime authors,” Dean suggests.

 

“You just want me to wear a sweater vest. Just be honest,” Sam teases, then freezes when he realizes what he’s just insinuated.  Given Dean’s expression, the suggestion was spot-on though. Sam smiles at the small flush on Dean’s cheeks.

 

Dean meets his eyes with a little defiance, matching his smile. “So what if I do? I’m just not up to wearing a suit, not in this cold weather. Don’t have my dress coat with me. It’s back at the bunker.”

 

Sam notices that Dean doesn’t call the bunker their home any more. It makes him sad, because it had been good for his brother to have that for a while. For both of them really. But now it doesn’t feel like home, not when all that emotional hurt and very real violence happened there.

 

 

“So the first victim was found in Forest Ridge Park near the Naval base. Second one in Pendergast Regional Park, which is near the Army reserve. Maybe a military connection somehow?” Sam suggests, paging through his notebook, rechecking for any other connections.

 

“Are the vics military?” Dean asks.

 

“Yeah, both guys were mid-30’s, recently stationed here, neither one was married, no connections with each other.”

 

“Guess we gotta start with the witnesses, huh?” Dean asks.

 

“We’re pretty close to the ‘wrong side of town’ here, got some of the street names the women are known by from this report.”

 

“Hookers, huh?” Dean asks in a suggestive tone.

 

“Don’t get too excited about it, buddy, we’re working,” Sam scolds.

 

Dean doesn’t say anything, just does one of those annoying eyebrow waggles that Sam studiously ignores.

 

As they interview the small group of prostitutes, Dean notices one woman hanging back. She’s got long, very straight black hair, she’s tiny, and is wearing a white hoodie. He turns to tell Sam he’s going to go talk to her separately, and when he looks back, she’s gone.  He dashes towards the alley and runs flat out as he sees a flash of white disappear around the building at the end. He rounds the corner and runs smack into her, knocking her to the ground.

 

She looks up at him in fear. “No, no, not again, please, he didn’t do anything,” she yells, body going stiff in what looks like terror. But her eyes blaze greenish blue as she slowly stands and steps back from Dean.

 

“Dean Winchester, you must pay,” the woman says in a monotone that rings with power.

 

Sam rounds the corner and comes up behind a small woman with her arms outstretched towards his brother, who he sees is beginning to writhe in pain. Sam raises his gun hand up and brings the butt of the gun down hard against the back of her neck. She crumples to the ground in an untidy heap. Dean shakes himself out of the pain or whatever trance it was.

 

“What the hell?” Dean says in a stunned voice.

 

“Who was she, Dean?” Sam asks, leaning down to pick the woman’s head up off the wet cement. He checks her pulse and lifts her eyelids. “She’s out cold.”

 

“I don’t know, she’s the one I said I noticed hanging back. I went to talk to her and she ran, so I followed her. We collided when I came around this corner. She screamed something like ‘ _No, not again, please he didn’t do anything’,_  then she went stiff as a board. When she stood up, her eyes were this weird greenish blue color and all I could feel was pain everywhere.”

 

“What the hell is she?” Sam asks, staring down at the small woman in his arms. Her face is beautiful, light caramel skin, and her dark hair falls over her shoulders.

 

“I don’t know, but we gotta move her out of here, before she comes to. Here, help me get her up.”

 

Between the two of them, they manage to carry her to the Impala without too much trouble; she doesn’t weigh all that much, coming up to maybe chest height on Dean. When they get her into the motel room, they lay her down on the bed and do all the usual tests on her. Holy water, salt, silver, nothing has an effect. Dean insists on tying her hands to the headboard, but Sam protests that the danger seemed to come when she felt threatened, so they compromise on only securing one of her wrists.

 

 

“Where am I?” she finally says when she awakens, surprising both of them.  “Hey! What the fuck! Let me go!”

 

“Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you. We’ll let you go, just tell us who you are first,” Sam says, sitting at her side on the bed and trying to calm her down.

 

“Tara. I’m Tara,” she says, dark eyes wide in fear.

 

“What are you, Tara?” Dean asks, looming over the bed next to Sam, looking down at her with his arms crossed.

 

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “You mean what do I do? I’m a hooker, dumbass.”

 

“What did you mean when you said ‘ _not again, please, he didn’t do anything?’_ ” Sam asks as he unties her wrist, rubbing at the skin gently.

 

She looks from one stern face to the other, and visibly gives up on pretending everything’s alright. “Uh. There’s been weird stuff happening to me lately. It’s been kinda scary.”

 

“What kind of weird stuff?” Sam asks.

 

Tara takes a deep breath, steadying herself to answer. “A week ago, two douchebags pulled knives on me and I ran into the forest to get away from them. I thought I lost them, but one came back for me and I passed out or something. When I woke up, he was just taken apart all over the ground. And two nights ago, pretty much the same thing.”

 

“Did you ask for help from anyone? Police, friends?” Dean asks.

 

“No. I don’t have anyone. Not here anyways. All I could do was sit there and pray,” Tara answers, looking down at her hands which she twists in her lap.

 

“Which prayer?” Sam asks abruptly, knowing that this is probably the clue they need.

 

Tara looks up at Sam and sees he’s very interested for some reason. “Uh..one my mom taught me. It’s to Matangi for protection and strength. She’s a Hindu goddess.”

 

“Are you Hindu?” Dean asks, pacing back and forth next to the bed.

  
Tara’s eyes follow him for a few turns of the room before she answers. “My mom was. I guess I’m nothing though.”

 

“I think this Matangi might have answered your prayers,Tara,” Sam says, with as much gentleness as he can manage.

 

Tara rolls her eyes for the second time. “Doubt that, dude, I’m still a hooker.”

 

“Yeah, but you’ve been protected, twice now.  Guys torn apart at your feet when you’re there, but not there.  Can you write down the prayer for me, so I can do some research?” Sam asks.

 

Sam hands her a notebook and pen. Tara sits up and writes down the few lines of the prayer. “Here, I doubt it’ll help. I don’t see why anything would be different, I’ve prayed to Her so many times.”

 

“But you weren’t ever in imminent danger at the time of your prayers before I bet. Sometimes that’s all they need,” Sam says, reading over what’s she’s written in his notebook.

 

“They?” Tara asks, with a nervous giggle.

 

Dean stops pacing and looks at her, serious and severe. “Gods, goddesses, deities, whatever. They usually ignore us, until it’s something extreme that gets their attention. And it seems like you’ve got Hers now, like it or not. Whenever you’re threatened, She’s jumping in to protect you. Tonight you told Her I didn’t do anything, but She was still trying to hurt me.”

 

Tara looks at Dean’s serious face and blanches, face going fish belly pale. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam pats her on the shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

 

Tara shakes her head, insistent. “But. It is. I prayed to Her, She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”

 

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have prayed to Her if you didn’t need Her, right?’” Dean says.

 

Tara thinks about it for a long moment, then answers in a quiet voice, “I guess.”

 

“I mean, those guys were going to hurt you, and she stopped them. A little overkill maybe, but still, you have a right to protect yourself however you can,” Dean says, standing next to where Sam is seated on the bed.

 

“How do I stop Her from killing people though?” Tara asks.

 

“We’ll have to figure it out. We’ll help you,” Sam assures her.

 

Tara looks between their two faces, both a little more friendly now. “Who  ** _are_** you guys?”

 

“Oh, uh sorry. I’m Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We kind of do this for a living, take care of this kind of stuff.”

 

“Stuff?” Tara asks.

 

“Yeah, ghosts, monsters, deities, demons, whatever, we do it all,” Dean says, sounding like he’s bragging.

 

“You can’t be serious,” Tara says, looking between the two men to see if they’re kidding her.

 

“Tara, based on what you’ve seen this week, you know there’s more to the world than you knew before. We got brought up in this life, believe us, we can help you,” Dean says.

 

Her stomach grumbles with blatant hunger pangs, making her forget whatever she was going to answer.

 

Dean stands up and grabs his keys off the table. “I’m gonna go get us some grub. Burger okay with you, Tara?”

 

“Yeah, uh, that’d be great,” she answers, pulling her hoodie sleeves down to cover her hands.

 

Sam crosses over the small room to join Dean at the doorway. “She hasn’t eaten in a while, get some extra stuff, maybe some milk too,” he says, in a low voice she hopefully can’t hear.

 

“Just like you always are with stray cats and dogs, Sammy, you know you can’t keep this one,” Dean says with a smile as he exits their room.

 

“Tara, have you been here in Bremerton long?” Sam asks after he’s closed and locked the door behind Dean.

 

Tara shifts around on the bed until she’s in a more comfortable seated position, back against the headboard. “No, I, uh, was last in Wyoming, that’s where my friend Allie lives. I was trying to get enough money together to go see her. And I ended up here because of the military bases, lots of customers, you know?”

 

“Ah, yeah, makes sense. So, did your mom bring you up in the Hindu religion at all?” Sam asks, sitting down on the other bed, and folding his legs up underneath himself.

“She tried, but it didn’t take. I was too American, she always said. Her and my dad, they came here so I could have a better life. But they both got cancer, from workin’ the oil fields. So many people in our town died from it. I had to get out of there. I had some money at first that they’d saved up, but it ran out. It’s more expensive to live here, and there weren’t a lot of jobs.”

 

“Sounds like it’s been a rough time for you. And I’m sorry about your folks. Ours are gone too.”

 

“You’re really brothers?” Tara asks.

 

“Yeah, we are, why?” Sam asks in return, dreading the question he knows that’s likely coming next.

 

“No reason, I just thought you were a couple when I first saw you together, that’s all. One of the skills someone in my line of work needs, gotta weed out the guys who won’t be interested. Thought it might be why I felt safe with you.”

 

Sam just laughs instead of trying to answer with what would have to be a lie. He doesn’t want to lie to this girl. Or admit to himself what used to be true about him and Dean maybe isn’t any longer. They aren’t much of a couple now, even if they still are brothers. Better to leave it as it is, at least for now.

 

Tara stares at him while he laughs, and she finally says, “Well, I wouldn’t care if you were a couple.”

 

_I wonder if she’d care if she knew we were a couple at one point, as well as brothers._ Sam thinks to himself as he smiles at her, guessing she’d probably be surprised, but who knows what someone’s going to think. That’s one thing he’s learned, he can never predict the unexpected and different reactions people have to finding out about the strange relationship he and his brother used to have.


	2. Chapter 2

  


 

Later that evening, after they’ve all finished the burgers Dean brought back to the room, they leave to take Tara home. Sam asks Dean to stop at a grocery store on their way, claiming that he’s getting supplies for something he looked up about Matangi.

 

While Dean and Tara wait for Sam to come back from his dash into the nearest WinCo Market, Dean breaks the suddenly uncomfortable silence. “He takes so long sometimes finding all the right candles and stuff.”

 

“It’s okay, I just need to get back to work at some point tonight, no rest for the wicked, ya know?” Tara jokes.

 

“Uh, Tara, I feel like you oughta take a night or two off, until we get this figured out.”

 

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but I gotta make some cash every night, otherwise, I’m kinda sunk,” Tara says with a shrug.  “I’ll be careful, I swear.”

 

Dean digs his wallet out of his jeans pocket and pulls out some bills, he folds it in half and holds it out to her over the backseat.  Her small warm hand touches his briefly as she takes the money.

 

Tara doesn’t say anything for a a long moment, then meets Dean’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Thanks. I know I shouldn’t take this, I mean I already owe you guys.”

 

“No, you don’t. And I’ve been where you are, I get it, believe me. I haven’t forgotten what it’s like, having to get out there every night,” Dean says. Before she can ask what exactly he’s talking about, Sam opens the door and slides back into the front seat with two crinkly plastic grocery bags.

 

Tara directs them the short distance to the place she’s currently calling home.  Both brothers escort Tara into her room at a nearby abandoned wood mill even though she assures them it isn’t necessary.  “I swear it’s safe here, guys. There are tons of working girls crashing here, but no one brings their tricks back to this place, this is just for us girls.”

 

But of course she’s wrong, - as they enter the cavernous space, sounds of fighting immediately surround them, bouncing off all the broken windows and high wood ceilings. Most of the disturbance seems to be coming from the former office area.  Lights are flickering, throwing strange shadows, and the yelling is all high-pitched women’s voices now. Without a word, the boys run towards the noise, disregarding Tara’s plea for them to stay out of it.

 

Sam reaches the office door first and slams it open. Dean arrives behind him in time to see Sam diving into a small scrum of bodies tussling on the floor.

 

“Sam!” he yells, leaping into the fray, blocking a knife coming down towards his brother’s back, visions of Cold Oak assaulting him as he struggles with the large man gripping the blade.  He headbutts and then punches the man until he’s lying still on the floor.

 

Sam’s got another man down with his forearm pinned over his throat in a chokehold.  “Leave these women alone,” Sam says with all the warning they should ever need to hear.  The two men scramble up and hotfoot it out of the office.  The three women standing at the edge of the room are patting at each other and panting in distress.  One of them looks up at Tara as she peeks in the room.  “These guys with you, Tara?”

 

She nods, speechless from all the sudden violence.

 

“Well, uh…thanks,” the woman says to Sam and Dean, helping one of the others up to standing. “Guess they followed us.”

 

“Any time,” Dean says, putting a hand on Sam’s lower back and pushing him slightly towards the door. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

 

“We owe you one,” the woman still on the floor says a little weakly.

Sam stops and backtracks to stoop next to her.  He meets her eyes and says with sincerity, “We’re just glad we were in time. Can I help you up?”  She nods and puts out one trembling arm.  Sam awkwardly lifts her up and helps her stand for a moment.

 

They leave the room with embarrassed nods and close the door quietly behind them.  Tara leads them towards the back of the building, where she’s got her small nest of a room set up in the old janitor’s closet. “You guys are really something, you know that?” she asks, flopping down onto her sleeping bag which takes up most of the room.

 

Sam and Dean stand in the doorway, filling the space, shoulder to shoulder.

 

“I really, really wish you guys could get something out of helping me,” Tara mumbles, obviously beginning to fall asleep after all the food and excitement of the past hour.  Her eyes close and her hands relax in her lap as she seems to nod off.

 

The brothers look at each other, and the shrug that passes between them conveys an entire conversation. They’re turning to leave when they hear Tara moving and shuffling on the plastic-covered sleeping bag.

 

“You two are in need of my gifts,” Tara says, her eyes flashing that unnatural green again. “And I will bestow them upon you now to repay you for assisting Tara.” She seems more somehow, not bigger physically, but like she’s taking up more space, using up more of the oxygen in the room, sucking up the available energy and attention of the brothers.  Her hands rise from her lap, floating up like they’re being pulled by invisible strings.

 

Sam can see her straight black hair starting to stand out from her head in a halo. His own hair feels like it’s rising up too, but this is something beyond just static electricity.  Tara’s hands are outstretched now, the palms are facing towards them, and she opens her mouth wide, letting out an inhuman cacophony of sound, - machines and animals and orchestras all crashing together. The sound pushes at them, funneled through her palms which glow with a design Sam knows he’s seen before. It’s definitely a mandala of some kind. The points where the lines intersect pulse with a more intense aqua light.

 

Her voice rings out in the hallway between them, filling all the empty spaces inside of him. “You will be able to say what needs to be communicated, one to the other. The taboo that you’ve broken for each other is evidence that it is necessary. For even though your love is strong, you make yourselves weak and vulnerable by not being honest with each other. This world is still relying on you both to be a functioning team as you were before. From now on, you’ll be clear communicators, one to the other, forevermore.”

 

Sam grabs Dean’s arm to move him further away from her, but then the wave of sound reaches them and takes over all their functions as it crashes into them. They’re pinned in place against the hallway wall by the sudden, sheer weight of it. Sam can just move his head enough to see Dean out of the corner of his eye, where he’s doing the same thing. They communicate wordlessly, both scared, but not sure why.  The sound is a thing now, and it enters them both, through too many entry points to count along their spines.

 

Sam feels lit up inside, like his spine is a glowing rod along his back, funneling energy and light out to his extremities. He feels the connection where his hand is touching Dean’s forearm, he hasn’t let go, and he’s glad. And somehow he can feel that Dean is glad too.

 

_They’re together,_

_and they’re one,_

_and they’re united,_

_like they’re meant to be._

 

And that knowledge, that acceptance, settles deep into his gut, into his heart, finds the place where it already was waiting in his soul.  _Finally you’ve got it, you’re soulmates, remember?_ his soul seems to say, spreading out in a luxurious cat stretch, integrating itself along with Dean’s presence, throughout his whole being.

 

This whole time Dean’s eyes have been locked with his, and he can see into him finally, the way he’s always wanted to be able to. Deep down inside, past the walls that Dean puts up between them, to hide his true feelings from himself and Sam. Now his feelings are right there, and visible, as plain as day, and they’re as complex and intense as Sam had always imagined. They make his brother even more beautiful to him, which had never seemed a real possibility.

 

The sound stops abruptly, and the brothers both turn to look at Tara. Her arms are down, her hands back to being limp in her lap, her head is bowed. Sam steps forward back into the small room and puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. “Tara, you okay?”

 

She shakes her head and looks up at him with wide, scared eyes. “What happened?”

 

“There was some kind of sound, and you said we were in need of your gifts, and you’d bestow them on us. It felt really weird and electric for awhile, something happened inside me. You too, Dean?” Sam asks, even though he already knows the answer.

 

“Yeah, it was definitely weird. I feel okay though. Like I’m realigned or something, like after a chiropractic adjustment or massage, but inside,” Dean says from the hallway.

 

“So it was Matangi again? Did She come through me again?” Tara asks.

 

“I think so, you’re channeling Her or manifesting Her somehow. That prayer, the one you wrote down for me. You said your mother taught it to you?” Sam asks.

 

“Yeah, it was supposed to only be used in extreme circumstances of dire need. That was how my mom put it. I remember she said the prayer, towards the end..before she….you know, passed.  But I think it was too late, the cancer was gone too far. I remember, I felt something that night, kind of like what you just described, on the inside. Maybe it connected me to Matangi somehow?”

 

“Maybe She feels that you are owed something, since She wasn’t able to save your mother, and that’s why She came to protect you,” Sam says.

 

“I guess that would make sense. But how do I get her to stop killing people She thinks are threatening me?” Tara asks, eyes pleading for help.

 

“Tara, they were threatening you, right? You feared for your life?” Dean asks from right over Sam’s shoulder where he stands, one hand on Sam’s lower back.

 

“Yeah. Absolutely,” she answers, eyes haunted by the memory of her near-encounters with violent death.

 

Dean pushes forward a little so that he’s next to Sam, crowding into the tiny space with him. “Have you thanked Her for the protection? In our experience, Gods and Goddesses are all about the thankfulness and worship. They pretty much need it to survive. Maybe try that, express your thanks as genuinely as you can. But whatever you do, don’t say go away or anything, you don’t want to piss Her off. But you can’t honestly tell Her you don’t need the protection anymore, not if you’re gonna keep hookin’,” Dean says.

 

Tara crosses her arms over her chest and frowns, obviously bristling at Dean’s comment about her current career. “I’ll try. And ya know, Dean, it’s not like I  _want_ to do this, but I have no other way to make money.”

 

“If you got to your friend’s house in Wyoming, would it be different for you there?” Sam interrupts, trying to keep the two of them on track, Dean really doesn’t need to big brother the whole world.

 

“Yeah, it would. There’s a ranch we can work on and live at. A friend of my mom’s owns it. I just can’t afford to get there from here,” Tara answers, sounding sad just at the thought of ever getting out of this situation.

 

Dean looks up at Sam and they have a quick silent conversation which seems even easier to accomplish than usual. Neither of them stop to think about that, instead they both turn back to focus on Tara. “Tell you what,” Dean says, “You talk to Matangi, get Her to back off, and we’ll take you there. It’s on our way back towards home anyways.”

 

“Really? You guys would do that for me?” Tara asks, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice as she looks from Dean to Sam’s faces.

 

“Yeah. We came here to figure out how to stop the killings, and this seems like part of the solution,” Sam says.

 

“We can leave as soon as you do the ritual or whatever it is,” Dean says.

 

“Okay. Give me a few hours, and I’ll call you when I’m ready. Thank you. You guys have no idea what this means to me.”

 

“Don’t thank us yet, you haven’t tried talking to Her. Oh, and these flowers that I brought,” Sam says, pointing at the newspaper-wrapped cone falling out of one of the plastic grocery bags lying on the floor by her sleeping bag. “They’re part of the offering you should make. I’m not sure how that needs to happen, just found in my research that these particular flowers are her favorites. There’s candles and some herbs in there she’s supposed to like too.”

 

“I remember how the altars looked when my mom and grandma made them. I’ll try to make something like that. I’ll call you guys when I’m done,” Tara says, holding the cone of flowers and looking at all the beautiful colors, red, orange, yellow.

 

“Good luck, Tara,” Dean says as they move to the door.

 

 

“Want to go get some breakfast before we check out?” Sam asks as they walk out of the main sawmill building. The sky is just starting to turn pink on the edge of the morning cloud cover.

 

“Sure, I saw a diner up the street from our place, - some pancakes and coffee would be good right about now,” Dean answers, opening the steel door to the rainy outdoors.  In sync, they get into the Impala and drive back, leaving the car in their motel parking lot. Within a half a block of walking, Sam gets a tingle in his spine that quickly expands and he feels the sound of Dean talking inside of him.  _So are we really connected? Can you actually hear me in here now?_ He looks over at Dean in surprise and then smiles when he answers Dean, _Yeah, I can hear you._

 

Breakfast is quiet, at least to those seated around them. The two young men seem to be concentrating on eating their morning lumberjack’s specials rather than conversation. But the words and feelings are flying fast and loose between them, all on the inside. Sam feels better than he has in ages; he’s getting a real sense of Dean’s state of mind without all the pretense that’s usually there. It’s almost overwhelming how much has been unstated for months and months. There’s so much that’s gone unsaid between them, after Gadreel and Kevin and everything that came afterwards.

 

Dean’s blocking off anything related to being a demon though, even though Sam’s asking for it all.  Instead, Dean kisses him when they get out of the diner. He just leans over like it’s any other day and lays one right on him. Dean presses Sam into a small alcove between the building and holds his body against Sam, blocking him into the small space.

 

Sam is shocked at first, - it’s been so long, and they’ve been so far apart. But then he gets hit with the why of it from Dean. How Dean needs to reconnect with him first, before he’s comfortable sharing the harder stuff. And Sam’s all for it, it’s the best sort of distraction, always has been. Kissing Dean is always an all-senses extravaganza, and with this new communication method they have, it’s even more amazing.

 

Eventually they come up for air, and in unspoken agreement decide to get back to their motel and pack up. Once the car is all squared away, Sam settles down on his bed with his laptop to recheck the research he’s done on Matangi. Dean is pacing back and forth outside on the walkway beneath the room windows. Sam gives him a few minutes to walk off whatever is bugging him, then goes to the door, opens it, and stands there watching Dean.  He’s hugging himself as he paces, hands on the opposite elbows, like he’s trying to keep something inside.

 

“You okay?” Sam finally asks, when he can’t stand seeing the obvious distress Dean seems to be experiencing. He thought of sending something through their new connection, something soothing or teasing, but that doesn’t feel right, they’re not used to being able to do that quite yet.

 

Dean looks up in surprise, stopping his pacing. “No, I’m really not.”

 

It’s Sam’s turn to be surprised, because he can’t recall a time when Dean has ever admitted to not being okay when there wasn’t obvious bodily trauma involved. “Can I help somehow?”

 

Dean’s head hangs low along with his shoulders, he looks so defeated. Sam can barely hear him when Dean says, “Yeah, probably.”

 

“You want to come in and talk?” Sam asks, stepping back into the room to clear the doorway.

 

Dean nods and comes into their room, shutting the door behind him.  He leans against the dark wood and sighs, uncrossing his arms. “I’m…not used to this.”

 

“Used to what?” Sam asks, taking a step closer even though he can hear everything behind Dean’s words through their new bond.

 

“I can’t get used to what Matangi zapped us with. The whole clear communication thing. It’s not something I’ve ever done, you know? Like ever. With anyone.”

 

Sam sighs as he thinks about how he too has never ever been honest with anyone he’s had a serious relationship with. Never felt like he could, until now. “Yeah, I know. Me either. Does it help to remember it’s new for me too?”

 

Dean looks up and meets Sam’s eyes finally. The tension around his eyes visibly relaxes as they send support back and forth to each other. “A little. I’m just used to holding back a lot of stuff because I think it’ll hurt you.”

 

“Oh, you do that too, huh?” Sam jokes, eyes twinkling.

 

Dean snorts in recognition and then gets serious, holding Sam’s eyes steady for a long moment. “I’m just gonna say it. And you can give me hell later, okay?” Dean asks.

 

Sam nods at his brother to continue, wondering what this could possibly be about; just over breakfast, it seemed like they’d covered so much of what’s been left unsaid over the last year.

 

Dean pushes off from the door and walks over to one of the beds, sitting down with a sigh. “I haven’t been 100% honest, about the Mark. It’s gotten worse since I killed that shifter back in Connecticut. I know I promised to tell you, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Not when it seemed like you were actually happy for once. Especially because I know there’s nothing you can do about the damn thing.”

 

Sam looks at his brother, at how uncomfortable he is with this hard truth, his body tense and huddled in on itself. Sam sits down across from Dean on the other bed, and reaches out with one hand, crossing the small distance to land on Dean’s bent shoulder. He resists the urge to say all of this through their new bond, but that’s too easy in a way, feels like cheating somehow, especially when Dean had just managed to say those hard words out loud.

 

“I’ve been suspecting that, for a while now, so I’m not surprised. But you’re really off-base about a couple things. First and most important, I still am happy, but that’s because you’re here with me and alive. And second, I think there is something I can do about the Mark. But all the stuff is back at the bunker.”

 

Sam is hit with Dean’s excitement and hope at that idea _, Really? You can? I’m glad you’re still happy, that’s all that matters to me now._

All Sam can do is just grin back at Dean, and send back a big mental hug.

 

Dean stands up and stretches his arms up wide, letting out a big gasp of breath.  Sam looks up at him, still smiling. Dean stretches again and crosses his arms, still protecting himself. “Guess Matangi was right, we did need this kick in the pants. I’ve gotten so used to not talking to you, to keeping it all in, trying to handle everything myself and screwing it all up.” Dean sits down abruptly, next to Sam, jostling him until he’s comfortably in his brother’s space.

 

“You haven’t screwed everything up,” Sam says, bumping their shoulders together and resting against Dean’s side.

 

“Really, dude? You don’t think becoming a demon is kinda the worst case scenario?” Dean asks.

 

“To me, no. If you’d ended up permanently dead because of Metatron, then I’d probably agree with you. But, Dean, you’re alive, like it or not. And we’ll deal with the Mark.” Sam covers the red raised design on Dean’s forearm with one large, warm hand. He bends down and traces it with his tongue until Dean moans.

 

“Don’t. Sammy, don’t,” Dean murmurs.

 

Sam asks him a series of questions through their bond, because he knows he could never say these words out loud.  _Do you want me to stop because I shouldn’t touch something so evil, or because it feels too good? Or because it will affect your control of the Mark? Or do you just not want to?_

 

In relief, Dean sends back a mixture of yes’s and no’s and kinda’s  and not-yet’s that get all mixed up in both of their minds.  Sam kisses the Mark gently and sits back up.  “I’m not going to push you when you’re this conflicted.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean says.

 

Cringing from the nickname and then trying to suppress his reaction internally and externally so that he doesn’t have to dump all that on Dean makes Sam swallow a small noise, but it manages to escape anyway. He hides it all by turning to Dean and kissing him. Not a hot and bothered kind of kiss, but a kiss that definitely makes the promise of hot and bothered in the near future.

 

Dean relaxes into the kiss and pulls Sam closer to him, they both fall back on the bed and into each other. The sharing of their minds and feelings as they kiss is an exquisite pleasure with a tinge of sadness and pain too. All the loss and separation and fear is there, always there. But the love they can express to each other through the bond counteracts all of that. Makes it all whole and right, dark and light together. One, whole, reunited, re-made.

 

The text message alert goes off on Sam’s cell, vibrating and chiming on the bedside table.  He sits up in slow stages, disengaging from Dean reluctantly. “She’s ready to hit the road,” Sam says after reading the text.

 

Dean hasn’t sat up yet, he’s still running his hands up and down the small of Sam’s back over the scar that’s still there. The one that he can never forget. “You really up for this? Babysitting road-trip duty?”

 

Sam stands up and pockets his phone after texting Tara back. “What else are we supposed to do? Kill her?”

 

“Shut up, not what I meant and you know it,” Dean says, slapping at Sam’s ass as he passes by to re-check the emptiness of the bathroom.

 

“Well then, up and atta ‘em tiger, we gotta go,” Sam says with a grin that he can’t help but reach up and feel, when he catches sight of it in the mirror. A real smile on his face, with kiss-stretched red lips, - something feels awfully right about that.

 

“Yeah, they look good like that Sam, real good,” Dean growls, attack-hugging Sam and kissing the breath out of him again, up against the bathroom door.  He leaves Sam standing there, gaping after him like a love-struck schoolboy, going out of the room and climbing into the Impala like it’s just another normal day.

 

Sam recovers himself, joins Dean in the Impala without a word, just sending a subtle push of wanting  _more, and soon,_  through their bond.  All he gets from Dean is a waggle of an eyebrow.

 

Tara’s waiting for them near the road, sitting on her bag, the old sawmill building looming behind her.

 

“Ritual go okay?” Sam asks, as he helps her stow her bag in the trunk.

 

She flips her hair out of her hoodie and looks up at him, a frown plain on her face. “Yeah, I think so.  But how will I know if it worked?”

 

“That’s a good question. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a way to check, but we’ll wait until you’re at your friend’s place. You said Wyoming, right?”

 

“Yeah, it’s near Cody, other side of Yellowstone from here.”

 

Sam shakes his head at his sudden rush of want for a vacation stop in Yellowstone. Vacations never seem to happen for them. Not ever in the cards for the Winchesters.

 

“Hey, Tara. Let’s hit it,” Dean says in welcome, drumming a little on the steering wheel.

 

Tara settles into the backseat, arranging her backpack and sleeping bag, taking out a book.  Sam rustles around with their maps, and makes some notes about their route on the back of their Western States map.  Dean puts in his favorite mix tape that he usually plays on the first day of driving.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

  


The hours tick by without a lot of conversation, not out loud anyways.  Sam and Dean are communicating the whole time through their bond. The words and feelings flying back and forth are becoming a flood washing over both of them. All sorts of mundane things, and important thoughts too, ideas about their future plans. How Dean wants to try selling some of the classic cars in the bunker. And Sam wants to upgrade the Men of Letters computer system for a big database he has in mind.

 

Dean keeps noticing Tara staring at them from the backseat, so he tries to smile and engage her.  But she’s pretty closed off, and it’s understandable. Making such a huge change, all the violence she’s witnessed, not to mention the hooking. Dean feels for her, as much as he can through the negative haze that the Mark seems to color everything with. Everything but Sam, of course.

 

Sam picks up on how unusually sympathetic Dean seems to be, especially about the hooking aspect of Tara’s mess of a life.  He notices it because of how conflicted Dean seems to feel. Through their bond, he picks up more of the story, about how Dean supported them through the leaner years, when Dad was absent more than he should have been.  Sam’s not sure what to say, or if he should even acknowledge that he knows now. It doesn’t change anything between them, but it just emphasizes for Sam, as if he needed that again, to realize how much Dean’s always done for him. Without saying anything about it, Dean just has always made his life work as well as he could.  Sam decides on sending Dean some gratefulness, a steady stream of thank you’s and appreciation.

 

Dean finally shakes his head, telling Sam to cut it out.  Sam frowns and makes an exaggerated sad face.  Dean reaches out and pinches his ear, hand brushing down the side of his neck and landing on the top of the back seat.  His fingers stay there, brushing back and forth, tangled in Sam’s long hair.

 

Tara watches all this with wide eyes from the back seat like it’s the best sort of reality TV show unfolding before her.  Neither of them notice that she’s noticed. And she doesn’t say anything. The only thing she talks about is how happy she is that they’re getting her to Mattie’s ranch where Allie will be meeting her in a couple of days. Just the thought of being settled and safe, and back with her friends seems to be enough to make her relax.

 

It’s one really long day of driving, more than eight hours. Sam takes a turn after lunch, and then Dean drives long past dinner time.  Finally Sam insists that they stop overnight in Missoula. They get a double room, Dean and Sam say that sharing a bed is no big deal. Pizza is ordered, and Sam requests beer to go with it, and dares Dean to try and beat the delivery guy back.

 

“No beer for you, kiddo,” Dean says to Tara as he’s heading out the motel room door. “I’ll get you some chocolate milk or somethin’.”

 

Tara doesn’t say anything, just laughs.  Sam notices it, because that’s the first time he’s really heard her laugh.  She sounds a little out of practice, but it’s good. It’s not like he really knows her, but he’s glad that this girl that they’re trying to help is maybe going to be okay.

 

“I still can’t believe you guys are doing this for me,” Tara says after at least ten minutes of silence, sitting on the edge of the bed farthest from the door that was designated hers.

 

Sam looks up from his laptop, already reviewing his research to make sure Matangi is gone for good.  “Like we said, it’s what we do, and it was on the way back home for us.”

 

“Where’s home?” Tara asks.

 

The word ‘home’ vibrates strangely in Sam’s ears.  One of those questions that’s bigger than it seems at first. His first honest answer would be Dean, but that wouldn’t make any sense to her, and he can’t really claim the bunker as home, or reveal it. Vagueness will have to do.  “We’re based out of Kansas now.”

 

“So you do have somewhere to go back to after fighting goddesses and monsters, huh?”

 

“Yeah, and it’s nice to try and forget about it when we can.”

 

“Ever been to Yellowstone?” Tara asks.

 

“No, never. Always wanted to though, that and the Grand Canyon. Out of all the time we’ve spent driving around, you’d think we could stop and check them out. But there’s always the next job, you know?”

 

“Does Dean know you want to go there?” Tara asks.

 

“Go where?” Dean asks, closing the door much more loudly than he’d opened it.

 

“Sam says he’s never been to Yellowstone. And Cody is just right next door, you really should take him, after you drop me off at my friend’s place,” Tara says, sounding a little more enthused about it than she maybe really should.

 

“That where you wanna go, Sammy?” Dean asks with a sideways grin, offering Sam one of the just-opened beers.  He sets a carton of chocolate milk on the bedside table closest to Tara.  She picks it up and smiles, shaking it up.

 

“Yeah, sure. But we don’t have to go right now,” Sam answers, taking a swig of beer and trying to hide his growing excitement about the idea of finally going there, and going with Dean.

 

“We haven’t taken a day off in a while, why not? Maybe we can see some buffalo or whatever they’ve got there,” Dean says, sitting on the bed closest to Sam’s spot at the desk.

 

Sam shakes his head in amazement that this conversation is even happening. He suddenly wishes Tara wasn’t here, because he’d like to express that to Dean in a more physical way. But he settles for a big smile and a taste of his excitement sent through their bond. “Sure, why not? Since we’ll be right there.”

 

The pizza delivery guy shows up then, and the conversation about Yellowstone takes another turn while they’re eating.

 

“We don’t have all our camping gear, and I don’t think we should buy more right now,” Dean says, waving his half-empty beer bottle to emphasize his point.

 

“But a lot of it is really old and needs replacing. Staying in a hotel doesn’t seem like the right way to experience it is all I’m saying,” Sam says, finishing the last slice of pizza on his paper plate.

 

Tara looks back and forth at both of them. “My friend, uh, Mattie, the one you’re taking me to stay with? She’s got a cabin on the edge of the park. This time of year, it’s probably not rented out. I bet she’d let you use it.”

 

“See, now there’s a good solution,” Dean says, pointing one pizza-sauce covered finger at her. “Thanks, Tara, that would be awesome.”

 

Sam grins at his brother’s continued use of the word ‘awesome’ and finishes his beer without further comment. He can feel the happy excitement coming from Dean, and it’s matching his own, the miracle of being back in-sync again still surprising him.

 

 

The drive from Missoula to Cody is not as long a stretch as yesterday’s, and is spent more in an anticipatory, excited mood.  Tara, now feeling more comfortable with the guys is babbling about Mattie and her ranch, which apparently has llamas along with the more expected ranch animals.  Sam is turned sideways on the front seat so he can talk to her more easily. His folded knee is pressing into Dean’s thigh, the physical contact making their bond more easily crossed.

 

Dean half-listens to the conversation about raising llamas, but more and more of his attention is going to the connection of this bond. It’s not all new, they’ve always been unnaturally close, but incorporating the ease of communication of thoughts and feelings that he usually keeps all to himself into how he goes through life with Sam at his side is a challenge. Like Sam said yesterday, knowing that it’s hard for him too helps.  Dean sends a  _howyadoing?_  through the bond and gets a smirk and a squeeze to his knee from Sam in response.

 

Mattie’s ranch isn’t that large, but the main house looks well-kept, and the cabin that Tara will be living in is small, but neat. Sam goes over the ritual that Tara will need to do from time to time to check in that Matangi has indeed departed.  He helps her set up a small altar with the right number of candles, herbs and offerings.  Dean gets a tour of the llama pens from Mattie, and they bond over their love of good barbecue.

 

“You’ve gotta go back into town for it, but Bubba’s is the best in the state,” Mattie says, tipping her straw hat back so she can see Dean a little better in the glare of the afternoon sun.

 

“Let me guess? Barbecue?” Sam interrupts, nudging a shoulder into Dean.

 

“Yeah, that’s where we’re heading for an early dinner. Mattie here says the cabin is about an hour out from town. Figure we can eat, pick up some supplies and get there right before dark,” Dean says, looking up at his brother with a smile.

 

Sam tips his head a little at Dean’s smile, surprised to see him looking so happy about going to a National Park, but maybe it’s the barbecue he’s excited about.

 

“Sure we can’t convince you guys to stay around a little while?” Mattie asks.  “I think Tara wouldn’t mind.”

 

“I think she needs a little break from us, it’s been a hectic coupla days. And her friend is arriving tomorrow, right?”

 

“Yeah, that kid Allie is really something. Those two are a pair, I’m still not sure how they got split up like that. I’m going to always owe you for bringing her back to me here. I promised Tara’s mother I’d watch out for her.”

 

“Mattie, we’ll call it square after using your cabin for a few days, okay?” Dean says, reaching out a hand to shake.  Sam shakes Mattie’s hand too.

 

Tara comes to the door of her cabin and waves a little shyly, standing there in her hoodie; she looks so much better than when they’d first met her. Sam nudges at Dean’s side and he walks over to give her a little goodbye hug.  She waves at them again as they leave in the Impala.

 

“She all set with the ritual thing?” Dean asks as he pulls out of the dirt driveway onto the highway.

 

“Yeah, she’s got it covered,”Sam says, looking over at Dean because he can practically see the happiness and excitement coming off of him.

 

“So, hungry for some barbecue?” Dean asks after a little pause where he’s sending Sam thoughts of licking barbecue sauce off of various body parts.

  
“Bubba’s? Really?” Sam asks with a laugh at the two-level conversation they’re having.  “Wouldn’t miss it!”


	4. Chapter 4

  


 

After their quiet, yet internally, lewdly-narrated meal at Bubba’s, they pick up a few day’s worth of supplies and drive to Mattie’s cabin.  It’s set a couple of miles off the main road that heads into Yellowstone.  It is actually a cabin, not a house.  One of those old original ones that was made to last forever, just one big room, giant river-stone fireplace dominating one corner, and a wall of small windows that look out on a river down the hill.

 

A big brass bed is next to the fireplace, and under the windows. Dean stows all the kitchen supplies away, and Sam brings in an armload of firewood from the woodshed.  He gets a fire going, while Dean takes the quilt off the bed and shakes it out over the porch railing. When Dean comes back inside with the quilt, he sees Sam laying on the bed, eyes closed, hands folded under his head, legs spread as if in invitation.

 

Dean takes his shoes off and crawls onto the bed between Sam’s outstretched legs. He lowers himself over Sam’s still form and breathes into the hollow of his neck for a few long moments, finally giving in and nipping at his Adam’s apple.

 

Sam moans and stretches, exposing his neck even more, bringing his hands out from behind his head to wrap around the nape of Dean’s neck, holding him in place. Dean gets the message that Sam wants more and spends time lavishing licks and nips and long sucking kisses along the firm column of Sam’s neck until he reaches his ear.  Sam shivers when Dean licks at it and bites at the fleshy lobe. His legs wrap around Dean and pulls his body even closer.

 

Sam floods Dean’s whole mind and body through their bond with a pulse of  _want you, need you, in me now,_  that leaves Dean reeling with how turned-on and desperate he feels. Usually he’d tease and draw this out, just to keep it even, but the walls are down between them, and he feels safe for once. He feels safe enough to let Sam see how much he needs this, how much he  _needs them_. And it doesn’t have to be said, not out loud, not even through their bond. He just shows Sam, by how he touches him, desperate and needy.

 

Dean gets off the bed quickly, pulls his clothes off heedless of where they end up, and stalks over to his bag to find the lube. He turns back to the bed where Sam is now naked and spread completely open for him. His big hand slowly stroking his hard cock, a gorgeous flush all over his body. Lips red and swollen from all their kisses, eyes dark and sparkling with anticipation. Dean hasn’t seen anything this hot or beautiful in ages. And that’s what he sends through their bond. Sam blushes a deep scarlet at being called beautiful. But sends back that  _Dean needs to look in a mirror sometime to see what’s really beautiful_.

 

Dean blushes himself, then crawls back onto the bed between Sam’s legs and shuts him up completely by sucking him down deeply. Sam’s moans increase when Dean begins fingering him open and he loses his ability to speak as Dean enters him. Lost in each other’s eyes they find their way to a new rhythm, one that sates the dark energy of the Mark and smooths the way between them where the rough patches still remain. Dean’s thrusts are sharp and hard for a while, Sam relaxing and taking them in, absorbing it all for a while. Then he flips them, riding Dean, taking his pleasure in seeing Dean’s green eyes shining up at him in amazement.

 

Dean reaches down between their writhing bodies and grasps Sam’s hard cock, sliding his hand in time with Sam’s gyrations. They can feel each other approaching the bright edge of orgasm through their bond, through their bodies. Their connection winds them together tighter and pushes them into the blinding bliss together. They come back to themselves and slowly separate, Dean cleaning them up with one of the discarded shirts. He pulls the quilt over them and rolls into Sam’s warmth and knows no more than this complete and utter happiness.

 

They end up spending a whole day in bed, relearning each other’s landscapes, playing with how the bond works when they’re physically touching, pushing each other to greater and greater heights of passion and connection.

 

The next two days are spent driving from one spectacular sight to another, geysers, bubbling pools of colorful sulfurous water, buffalo all over the roadsides, and even one moose in the distance. Dean makes sure to take selfies on his cellphone with Sam at each of the places Sam seems to be the most excited about. He listens closely to Sam’s explanations of what they’re seeing and is impressed once again with how damn smart Sam really is.

 

As they drive out of Yellowstone, Dean can feel how happy Sam is, even without using their bond. “We need to do this more often, Sammy, while we can. Go see and do things like this. Promise I’ll try, just remind me or somethin’, okay?” Dean says over the sound of the old blues tape he’s playing on the stereo. He puts his arm across the back of the seat and tangles his fingers in Sam’s hair.

 

Sam looks over at him with a heart-breaking, beautiful smile. “Yeah, okay, Dean. I promise to remind you,” he says, scooting over closer so  that he can kiss the side of Dean’s neck, just enough to make him shiver and laugh.

 

 

A few days later when they finally get back to the Bunker, Sam goes straight to the shower. He comes out after a nice long clean-up to find their room is empty; so is Dean’s. After searching the main room and the kitchen, he finds his brother crumpled in a heap against the hallway wall, across from the door he’d broken down during that awful chase just a few weeks ago. When he’d almost killed Sam.

 

Sam sits down next to him quietly and bumps their shoulders together. They sit there for a while and finally Dean leans into him, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder.

 

Sam sends him a wordless  _it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything_.

 

But Dean just looks at him, then shakes his head. “No, I need to say this out loud, Sammy.”

 

Sam looks at him and nods, giving him an encouraging wave of emotion through their connection.

 

“I know what I did here, and thank god you were prepared, you expected it. But what I said to you…I can never apologize enough for it, for saying those horrible words.  And seeing this broken door, and the smashed-up wall here, it brought it all back. I’ve been trying to shove it down, pretend it didn’t happen. But I can’t. Not anymore. Not when we’re like this and that we’re most of the way back together. I think we are, right?”

 

“Yeah, Dean, yeah, we are,” Sam says, gripping Dean’s forearm in reassurance.

 

Dean’s hand comes to cover Sam’s on his arm, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, Sammy. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

 

Sam sighs and pulls Dean into a hug, so that he’s almost in Sam’s lap. He places two fingers under Dean’s chin and tips it up so that their eyes meet. “Would you forgive yourself?”

 

“What?” Dean asks, eyes gone wide with incomprehension at what Sam’s asking him to do.

 

“It was awful, you’re right. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Every time you call me Sammy now, it reminds me, and I have to work not to flinch. But, Dean, I’ve already forgiven you for all that. And yeah, maybe that’s stupid of me, it probably is, but I saw what you went through. I’ve been there myself in a way. But none of that matters to me. What matters is that you came back to me.”

 

“How…I don’t get it…how can you?” Dean asks.

 

“I don’t know how, I just do. You just said you’d do anything to make it up to me. What I want is for you to forgive yourself. Don’t add this onto everything else that’s been weighing you down all these years. Please, Dean, that’s what I want.”

 

“Geeze, you don’t ask for much, huh?” Dean laughs, bumping into Sam’s shoulder. Then he steadies himself, taking a deep breath and looking into Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

 

“You work on that, and I’m going to figure out how we can get rid of this,” Sam says, reaching down to Dean’s forearm, to stroke over the Mark of Cain.

 

Dean sends him a flood of relief and gratefulness and determination, which Sam returns. Sam folds his brother in even closer and just holds him, filled with grateful peace, at least for now.

 

**_~FIN~_ **


End file.
